First Impressions
by Clutching at Straws
Summary: You never get a second chance to make a first impression, and for Matt Trakker, those first impressions are going to be vital if he's going to form MASK!
1. Things To Do In Denver

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Kenner and a bunch of animation studios. All I own is the situation, plot and backstory.

Author Note: First Impressions is a collection of one-shot vignettes which fit into my MASK universe at various different points. Each installment is a complete story. Each installment will say where, in the universe, it fits.

Story Note: This is a one-shot vignette which fits into my MASK universe at roughly the same time as chapter 2 of The Coming Storm.

With many thanks to Jonath, Ganeris, Beth and Nessa for editing, feedback and patient hand holding.

* * *

Things To Do In Denver…

The headquarters of the Trakker Foundation were located on the third floor of one of the many high-rise buildings that peppered downtown Denver. Just one large office staffed by three full-time staff and a couple of interns oversaw the day-to-day running of the foundation, but that was one way the foundation maintained its success. Without flashy headquarters, more of the foundation's funds could go to the causes it had been set up to support.

Most of the time, Matt let his staff get on with their work without his interference. They were all good, intelligent people who knew what he wanted the foundation to achieve, and he saw no point in annoying them with a constant presence. But sometimes, the foundation headquarters was an ideal place to hold meetings, particularly if the attendees were flying in from out of state. Why make them come to Boulder when the airport was in Denver?

So it was that, after a brief stop at Boulder Hill Gas Station to introduce Buddy to Earl and to pick up the latest set of accounts from Cassidy, Matt made his way into Denver for just such a meeting.

"Mr Trakker, good morning," called Erica Myers, the foundation's receptionist, as Matt entered the office.

"Good morning, Erica," Matt replied. "Everything all right?"

She grinned. "John wants to talk to you about one of the archaeological digs we're funding; and your ten o'clock appointment is already here."

Matt glanced at his watch. "Really? Must be keen."

Erica grinned again. "You could say that. Stephanie's looking after him, in the conference room."

Matt smiled. "OK, thanks Erica. Tell John I'll speak to him after my meeting."

"Will do."

As Erica turned back to her computer screen, Matt entered the office proper. Beyond Erica's reception desk was a second workstation, piled high with case folders and other bits and pieces, which belonged to the third member of the team, Stephanie Rose. Behind that were three doors. One, Matt knew, led to a small kitchen area. The second led to the office of John Phelps, the foundation's Chief Executive. The third, which Matt made for, led to the conference room.

"Matt, good to see you," said Stephanie, smiling as Matt entered the conference room. "This is Mr Bruce Sato." And she waved a hand at the young Asian man seated at the conference table.

"Hi," said Matt proffering his hand to Bruce. "Good to meet you."

"It is an honour to meet you, Mr Trakker," Bruce answered standing up and shaking Matt's hand.

"My pleasure," said Matt as Stephanie departed. "Please, call me Matt." He waved a hand to the table. "Have a seat."

Bruce smiled and sat down. "Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me."

Matt smiled in return. "I was very interested in your proposal. Most applications for grants from the Trakker Foundation are for academic research; what made you think to apply to us?"

Bruce frowned heavily for a second, then his smile returned. "I know that you have supported research in all areas, and while the end product of my research may not be academic, I do believe it will be beneficial."

"All right; how about you tell me about your proposal?" Matt sat back in his seat and waited. This was bound to be interesting.

"I studied mechanical engineering at AIT in Japan and then at MIT here in America. In doing so, I learned a great deal about current robotics techniques and I would like to research them further and see if I can further design and technique. I believe there are countless occupations where a robotic drone would be better suited than the human being currently performing those tasks because of the conditions, or where the robot drones could be improved."

Matt nodded slowly. "I see. That sounds like a long term project, yet you're only asking for a six month grant."

"I wish, ultimately, to fund my own research," Bruce answered. "It is a wise man who makes the best of charity so as to provide for his future."

Matt smiled at the Confucian statement; it took a certain 'something' to quote proverbs when you were being interviewed like this. It struck him that Bruce might just be what he was looking for in other areas. "How do you propose to do that?"

Bruce smiled. "Robotics is not so far away from toy design and I believe that I can develop a successful toy."

"Right in time for Christmas," Matt observed, a grin now on his face. Bruce was definitely sharp and the resume that had been attached to his application demonstrated he had the skills and talent to back up the belief. "What's your idea for the Christmas toy?"

"A mechanical animal capable of talking and able to learn from those around it," Bruce answered.

"That sounds ambitious," Matt observed. "You can design one?" Bruce nodded. "What would you call it?"

"I think, Furbee."


	2. The Cowboy Way

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Kenner and a bunch of animation studios. All I own is the situation, plot and backstory.

Author Note: First Impressions is a collection of one-shot vignettes which fit into my MASK universe at various different points. Each installment is a complete story. Each installment will say where, in the universe, it fits.

Story Note: This is a one-shot vignette which fits into my MASK universe between the end of _The Coming Storm_ and before _What it Takes._

With many thanks to Jonath, Ganeris, Beth and Nessa for editing, feedback and patient hand holding.

* * *

The Cowboy Way

Matt leaned on the fence and watched the brown-haired man in the ring as he put the horse through its paces. Somehow, this hadn't been what he'd been expecting when Duane had said he'd found a possible test driver for MASK.

_"He's living in Texas right now,"_ Duane had said, _"but he's taking a sabbatical. He's just finished working on several big Hollywood pictures as a stunt driver. You name it, he can drive it."_

On the back of that description, Matt had flown down the Huston and driven out to the ranch Duane had named to meet the guy for himself, assuming that the guy was the ranch owner. What he hadn't expected was for him to be working as a ranch hand, and he certainly hadn't expected him to be as young as this.

At this point in Matt's thoughts, the man saw him and smiled. "Howdy!" he called, immediately revealing that he was a native Texan. "Be with you in two shakes."

Matt smiled and started round the ring to where the man was now removing the horse's tack, training clearly finished. "You ride?"

"Well sure," the man answered, grinning. "I grew up here'n the horses seemed to like me." He wiped a hand on his thigh, then offered it to Matt. "Dusty Hayes at your service."

Matt shook the proffered hand. "Matt Trakker."

"Pa said someone was coming down to see me today." Dusty turned back to the horse and continued working. "I figured it was someone from Parafilm, but you ain't anyone I've ever seen from them."

"I'm not," Matt agreed.

Dusty glanced over his shoulder. "Good. Saves me needing to kick your butt all the way back to Hollywood."

Matt smiled. "I'm not a film producer at all."

"Good." Dusty turned back to the horse. "So what can I do for ya?"

"I've heard you're quite the driver," said Matt.

"Thought you said you weren't from Hollywood."

"I'm not," said Matt. "And there's more to driving than film stunts."

Dusty laughed. "Ya got me there." He finished what he was doing and started to lead the horse towards the stable yard. "So you want a driver."

"I do," said Matt, following Dusty into the yard. "Someone who knows how to put something to the test and not afraid to push it to its limits."

"Sounds kinda neat." Dusty started to brush down the horse. "But I'm guessin' that you ain't meaning something I can do here."

"No, there would be a relocation involved," Matt agreed.

"No dice," said Dusty. "I'm a good ol' Texas boy an' livin' in the city just don't agree with me."

Matt smiled. "Who said anything about city living?"

Dusty paused and stared at Matt. "Huh? Well, shit, you did."

"No; I said you'd need to relocate. I didn't say you'd have to locate to a city. Point of fact, I'm based in Boulder, which isn't exactly metropolis."

"Huh." Dusty returned to work.

"There's also a lot of ranches and open space within easy distance of Boulder," Matt continued. "It's not the Texas plains, but it's no smog-trap either."

"Sounds better'n LA," Dusty admitted. "What, exactly, d'you want me for?"

"Testing vehicles," Matt answered. "Maybe some other things too, but at least to start with, it's testing vehicles."

"What kinda vehicles?"

"All kinds." Matt grinned.

Having finished brushing the horse, Dusty tossed a blanket over it and led it into the nearest stall. "Sounds kinda interestin'," he admitted. Then he grinned. "Aw, heck; who'm I kiddin'? When do I start?"


	3. Rock'n'Roll Dreams

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Kenner and a bunch of animation studios. All I own is the situation, plot and backstory.

Author Note: First Impressions is a collection of one-shot vignettes which fit into my MASK universe at various different points. Each installment is a complete story. Each installment will say where, in the universe, it fits.

Story Note: This is a one-shot vignette which fits into my MASK universe just before the start of _What it Takes._

With many thanks to Jonath, Ganeris, Beth and Nessa for editing, feedback and patient hand holding.

* * *

Rock'n'Roll Dreams

The Blue Note Club was about half full by the time Matt entered, just after seven o'clock. He wished he'd been able to convince Buddy to come with him. He got the feeling that Buddy was brooding over what had happened to Vanessa and Mac and this might have been just the thing to shake the younger man from the self-recrimination, but Buddy had been resolute, insisting he didn't want to come.

He shook his head. It would probably help when Dusty arrived at the end of the week; Matt strongly suspected the upbeat Texan would put a stop to Buddy's brooding by giving him something else to think about and a friend more or less his own age.

"Matt!"

The voice dragged Matt's wayward attention back to the club, which had filled up while he'd been wool gathering.

"Mitch – good to see you."

Mitch, a tall man with a shaven head and eccentric dress-style (he was currently wearing a rather garish robe over jade coloured pants and a white open-necked shirt, which, for Mitch, was actually quite restrained), was an old friend. He'd been in Matt's class at Prep School, but his flamboyant style and careless attitude hadn't endeared him to that particularly straight laced establishment and Mitch had, eventually, left to take up a job in New York, working as an intern for one of the big record labels. Ten years later and he was a successful record producer and was currently travelling around the country with his latest protégées, a band called Fast Trax.

"You're going to absolutely **love** my boys," Mitch gushed, grinning. "They're just the best thing this side of Presley."

Matt lifted his eyebrows. "That good?"

"Better."

At that moment, conversation had to stop as the band came out on stage and Matt got his first look at the band. The bass player, drummer and keyboard player all looked faceless and bland, which didn't exactly inspire much confidence in Matt that he was going to enjoy the concert. Then they started to play, and he guessed that all three had probably been hired for their talent rather than their looks. And then the lead singer/lead guitarist took to the stage and Matt stopped wondering where the band were going to get any kind of stage presence.

With his brown hair cut short and slicked back, in strict defiance of current fashions, mirrored sunglasses and an easy smile, the lead singer looked just right to be the next teen idol. With a voice that could sound soulful one minute and hard-edged the next, he had the talent to back up the looks.

When Matt said so, in a convenient pause between songs, Mitch grinned. "He wrote some of the songs, too."

"Impressive," said Matt, smiling. "You're right, they are good."

"Aren't I always?"

Matt laughed.

Most of the set consisted of upbeat, up-tempo songs that got most of the concert goers up and dancing, with the few ballads played being things that Matt recognised as cover versions, but just when he thought the band didn't know how to write a ballad of their own, the final song of the set rolled around and proved to be the best song of the lot. A ballad, it had all the raw emotion the lead singer could pour into it paired with some well-crafted lyrics and music.

"That last song's a sure fire hit," Matt observed as the band left the stage.

"Oh, definitely," agreed Mitch. "That's one of Brad's best." At Matt's puzzled frown, Mitch added, "The lead singer is Brad Turner. You should meet him; you'd like him."

Matt smiled. "Maybe. I ought to head off, though, Mitch; I've got---"

Mitch just waved a dismissive hand. "Peshaw! I know you, Matthew Trakker. You're going to go home and get a nice early night so that you can be bored to tears in a business meeting tomorrow. Well just for once, you can live a little. You're coming to the after show party."

"I don't get a choice?"

Mitch grinned. "Not a hope of one."

Matt laughed and shook his head. "Mitch, what would I do without you?"

"Live a very boring life," said Mitch knowingly. "Excuse me."

Mitch bustled off, presumably to see to the band and make sure everything was all right with them, leaving Matt to settle back against the bar and watch the comings and goings in the club.

One particular knot of people caught his eye. There was a girl and a couple of guys, just down by the stage, arguing about something. As he watched, the girl started to leave, only to be prevented by one of the guys. At this distance, Matt couldn't hear what was going on, but he could read her expression and see her shake her head. Whatever it was the guys wanted, she didn't.

That was grounds enough for Matt to decide to step in, but before he could move, someone else had done it for him: Brad Turner, who had been collecting something from the stage, had clearly heard enough.

Matt watched as Brad calmly jumped down from the stage and interposed himself between the girl and the guys. There was a moment of standoff, then Brad said something. The two guys scowled and started to walk away. Brad turned to the girl and asked her something. She started to nod when one of the guys, visibly angry, rushed at Brad's turned back.

The girl screamed, silencing the rest of the club.

Brad turned in time to catch his would-be attacker and, to Matt's surprise, execute a very neat hip-toss.

"The lady's said she's not interested," Brad observed, "so take the hint now and save yourself and your buddy some pain and leave."

_For a 'pretty-boy' musician, he's got more than just stage presence,_ Matt decided, standing up as the two guys were forcibly removed from the club by bouncers. _I think Mitch is right; I think Brad Turner and I might just get on very well._


	4. School's Out

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Kenner and a bunch of animation studios. All I own is the situation, plot and backstory.

Author Note: First Impressions is a collection of one-shot vignettes which fit into my MASK universe at various different points. Each installment is a complete story. Each installment will say where, in the universe, it fits.

Story Note: This is a one-shot vignette which fits into my MASK universe during chapter two of _What it Takes._

With many thanks to Angel and Nessa for editing, feedback and patient hand holding.

* * *

School's Out

Matt stared the flight arrivals screen in the Jeppesen Terminal building and tried not to look at his watch.

He had been waiting for the mid-morning flight from Washington DC for over an hour and it was beginning to grate on his nerves. By rights, he should have already been back in Boulder, helping Alex with Bruce and Buddy's introduction to the ins and outs of working for MASK. But no. Instead of that, he was stuck in Denver International Airport, waiting for a plane that, at this point, he was beginning to doubt had even so much as left the capital!

Beyond his general annoyance at the delay, Matt had another reason for feeling irritated by it all: The person he was supposed to be meeting was one of Duane's appointees to the MASK roster and no matter how well meaning Duane was, Matt detested the interference.

Matt knew it was an irrational feeling. He knew that without Duane's support, he would have been pushed onto the scrap heap as a discredited and washed up analyst. And, of course, without Duane, finding Dusty would have taken some doing. Nor could he argue about how invaluable Alex was, not just as a communications expert but also as a friend and a confident. But still, the interference rankled. Either MASK was his project, or it wasn't, and it particularly rankled this time because all Duane had said was: _"Your tactical and weapons specialist will be arriving tomorrow, on the ten o'clock flight from Washington."_ No name, no details, no chance for Matt to try some last minute information fishing for information to see if this selection was going to fit in; just the bald implication that Matt would have to meet him or her in Denver.

"Now arrived, flight UA301 from Washington Dulles. United Airlines would like to apologise---"

Matt tuned the rest of the announcement out. Finally. It wouldn't be much longer now. Standing up, he took up a more visible position by the airside entry into the arrivals hall just as the first of the passengers from the heavily delayed flight appeared.

At the head of the rush was a large black man dressed in an obviously new suit. He was carrying a briefcase in one hand and had a suit bag draped over his other arm; he looked like any other businessman on the flight. Matt stared at him for a moment, then broke into a grin.

"Hondo!"

The black man stopped dead and grinned in return. "Good to see you, Matt."

"What are you doing here?" Matt asked as both he and Hondo moved out of the way of the other passengers.

"You're looking at U Colorado's newest member of the history faculty," Hondo answered, grinning widely.

"Really? Congratulations." Matt smiled. "I always said you'd been wasted in the Army."

"Thanks; I was sorta hoping I'd get the chance to look you up and catch up a bit," Hondo continued. "Then, as I was packing up last week, a friend of yours showed up on my door step."

Matt had been keeping half an eye on the other passengers for Duane's hire, but at Hondo's words, he gave his old friend a long look. "This friend of mine," he began. "He wouldn't happen to be the Secretary of Defence's top aid?"

Hondo chuckled. "That's him."

"I'll kill him."

Hondo laughed. "It was my idea not to tell you," he admitted. Matt stared. "Well; I gotta get my revenge in for you not even asking me if I wanted in." Hondo's smile faded into a sombre expression. "I owe our old friend for what went down in Al Abraq. I lost good friends because he sold his principles to the highest bidder."

Matt looked down. "I'm sorry; I should have thought." He shrugged a little. "You were still in rehab when this first started up, and then I heard you'd gone back to school. I didn't think you wanted any more to do with this sort of thing."

"I don't," Hondo agreed. "But for Mayhem? I'm prepared to make an exception. You can count on me, Matt."

Matt smiled. "Thanks, Hondo."

They started to head for the terminal's exit and parking lot.

"I gotta say," said Hondo conversationally, "that was one heck of a flight."

Matt lifted his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"We were nearly two hours late taking off from Dulles," came the reply. "Want to know the reason?"

Matt looked and saw the light of mischief in his friend's expression. "I'll bite; how come?"

"The plane needed 'precise technical adjustments to the nose wheel'," Hondo answered. He broke into a grin. "All you could hear in the departure lounge was this 'boing', 'bang', 'boing' as some mechanic hit the damn thing with a hammer!"

Matt laughed. "Well, at least they got it fixed and you got here."

"Eventually," said Hondo. "Man; it's good to be here. New job, new place to live and a chance to kick Miles Mayhem's ass from here to Christmas – what more does a guy need?"


	5. Just a Girl

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Kenner and a bunch of animation studios. All I own is the situation, plot and backstory.

Author Note: First Impressions is a collection of one-shot vignettes which fit into my MASK universe at various different points. Each installment is a complete story. Each installment will say where, in the universe, it fits.

Story Note: This is a one-shot vignette which fits into my MASK universe four months after _What it Takes _and just before the start of_ Estranged.  
_

With many thanks to Nessa and Liz for editing, feedback and patient hand holding.

* * *

Just a Girl

The punch bag swung violently in response to his efforts; his chest heaved from exertion. It wasn't enough. It was never enough.

Matt sighed, leaning forwards and stilling the bag's jerky motion.

Why couldn't it, just once, be enough to muffle the ache in his heart?

Alex and Hondo both thought he was punishing himself for Sarah's death, and maybe he was. But mostly he was just scrabbling for something, anything, that might take away the pain. Even for just a little while.

He thought that Buddy understood, which felt odd, considering how young Buddy was in most respects. Except that it wasn't odd at all; Buddy had been through much the same thing four months earlier with Vanessa's defection to VENOM. The only difference was that Vanessa was still alive.

Buddy had the hope that maybe, someday, Vanessa would wake up to what she was doing.

Matt clenched his fist and drew it back, preparing to assault the punch bag once more.

"You know, you've been in here every day for the last four months and pounded that poor, defenceless bag into the ground," observed a voice lightly. "Maybe you need some new opposition."

Frozen, poised to strike, Matt looked around for the speaker, and found her: A tall, almost willowy brunette woman a little younger than himself, dressed in workout clothes and wearing a curious expression on her face, who was standing just behind him. He thought he might have seen her around before, since he'd started coming to the gym.

Seeing she had his attention, she added, "My normal sparring partner's blown me off today and you look like you could use some real opposition. So how about it?"

Slowly, Matt lowered his arm. "I don't---" he began.

The woman smiled warmly. "C'mon," she cajoled. "It's gotta be better than hitting that thing again."

"You're not going to leave me alone until I say yes," Matt judged.

"Nope."

Matt sighed. "Who put you up to this?"

The woman's smile was replaced by a frown. "No-one," she answered. "My sparring partner's blown me off and I thought you could use a change." She shrugged. "If you're really that bothered, though, forget about it."

She started to turn away, and Matt immediately felt awkward. Why had he assumed Alex or Hondo had put her up to it? "Maybe a change would do me good."

She stopped and turned back to him, smile back in place. "Well, all right then." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Gloria."

"Matt," he answered, shaking her hand.

"Good to meet you, Matt," Gloria answered, leading him towards the sparring practice area. "Local?"

"Born and bred." Matt grinned. "You?"

"Grad Student," she replied. "Though I'm thinking about staying on when I finish. It's a nice place."

Matt smiled. That had been the way Sarah had always described Boulder: A nice place. Strangely, that thought didn't hurt as much as he'd expected. "Yeah," he agreed. "It is."

They reached the practice matting and conversation was shelved in favour of warm up stretches. Matt wondered when he'd last sparred with anyone, much less someone so much smaller than him. As much as he knew size wasn't always an issue in martial arts, he did have to hope that Gloria knew what she was doing.

"Ready?" Gloria asked.

"Any time," Matt replied, coming to stand opposite her on the mat.

"Well all right." She grinned and bowed.

Matt matched her gesture and then waited for her to make the first move.

That move came barely a moment later. All the warning Matt got was a minuscule shift in Gloria's balance, then she lashed out with a kick designed to separate his head from his shoulders. He managed to block the kick, but she followed up with a rapid succession of punches, driving him backwards.

"You're holding back," Gloria observed, disengaging.

Matt blinked. Had he been?

"Don't think that 'cause I'm a woman I can't kick your butt," she continued. "So don't think you have to hold back."

Matt smiled. "All right."

This time, he was the one to begin. He feinted a punch to Gloria's left and when she moved to block that, he twisted into a superkick to her right.

"Better," she approved, even as she ducked out of the way. "But not good enough."

And before Matt could reply, she went onto the attack and it was all Matt could do to keep most of her blows at bay. Once more he found himself being driven back, towards the edge of the matting.

In desperation, he looked for a hole in Gloria's defences. There had to be one; even the best of defences had some way through. He felt the edge of the mat through the soles of his feet and in that instant, he thought he saw a way to retaliate.

Matt aimed a punch…

…and found himself cart wheeling through the air as Gloria grabbed his wrist and threw him as if he was just an overgrown rag doll. He landed, with a winding thud, on the mat.

"I'm outta practice," he mumbled.

Gloria leaned over him, a slightly guilty expression on her face. "Are you OK?"

Matt smiled sheepishly. "Only a little ego damage." He rolled back to his feet. "Could be worse."

"Well, if you ever want to get back into practice, I'm here most days." Gloria smiled. "If you think your ego can cope with being thrown by a woman again."

Matt found himself chuckling. "Oh, I think it can cope with another few shots. It would be good to get back in training."

"Well OK, then." Gloria crossed to where she'd left her things. "See you tomorrow?"

"Count on it."

Matt watched her leave. For the first time in four months, he actually felt a sense of purpose again. Alex and Hondo had been right; meeting Gloria had proved that. It was time to stop punishing himself and get on with the business of living and of making Miles Mayhem pay.


End file.
